


poisonous fungi can break hearts

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Medusoid Mycelium, Post-Break Up, background/implied Kit/Ellington and Beatrice/Bertrand, fernald and gregor were often mentioned but they didn't actually show up, general VFD moral ambiguity and shadiness, i tried to make it as canon compliant as possible but it probably isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 11:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: There was a schism, there was a dangerous biological weapon, and there were people wishing other people would reach out first: a fic about Jacques/Bertrand breakup, Kit and Bertrand’s friendship, and the Medusoid Mycelium backstory. (Except, as one of them would point out, is it really a breakup if you’ve never really been together?)





	poisonous fungi can break hearts

**Author's Note:**

> liz asoue-sideblog pointed out in [this post](https://asoue-sideblog.tumblr.com/post/182596167750) on tumblr about B&B being on different sides with the Snickets when it came to Medusoid Mycelium, and my brain went "what if this is how J/B broke up" and this fic ... spiraled out of control.
> 
> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE
> 
> please don’t copy this story to another site

A couple of years back, the first few times Jacques and Bertrand went out on missions together, Bertrand couldn’t figure out if Jacques genuinely believed that VFD was truly noble, or if he just tried to convince himself that was the truth, managed to believe in that sometimes, but those secret doubts buried deep down resurfaced every now and then.

Years later, Bertrand still didn’t figured it out.

Despite that, it was hard not to fall in love with how idealistic Jacques was sometimes. Jacques, the Snicket with the fewest words. Jacques, who hid behind some kind of tough exterior formed by the cigarette holder and trench coat, but Bertrand could see the softness, the belief, underneath.  Part of Bertrand wanted to believe in those ideals too, but he couldn’t. Perhaps some of the missions he went on did feel noble, but there were also, so, so many others that felt very much not, though with obvious financial gains or other profits.

VFD liked to paint some kind of big picture of some idealistic, perfect world. Perhaps all those dirtier missions were necessary too, in order to achieve that.  It was just sometimes he hated the unrealistic, faraway big picture, and wondered if it was possible that maybe VFD was just using the picture of the idealistic world as their goal that was never reachable as an excuse for doing those morally questionable things.

He’d learned, over the years, on how to compartmentalize his doubts and the practical aspects of the mission.  He could be cynical about it all and still focus on each particular task.  He could focus so hard on the details of getting something done correctly, the exact way that would be utmost efficient, as accurate as a dart landing right on the target in the crowded opera house. When he made himself concentrate on the small details enough, it got missions done. He could worry about his conscience before and after.  Not during.

Jacques - Jacques still believed in VFD. Or so he insisted he did, anyway.  He wouldn’t do something he thought as immoral, because “we’re not that kind of organization”.  But if it was something he felt morally justifiable in the grander scheme, he would start making it an incredibly noble mission in his mind.

In retrospect, perhaps Bertrand should’ve realized earlier falling in love with someone’s idealism or maybe even naivety, but distrusting their judgments because of those exact same traits, weren’t exactly a good combination that led to happy endings.

On the other hand, it had also taken him a pretty long time to admit to himself that he was in love.

 

* * *

 

The night started out fine, until they reached the topic of Gregor’s latest research.  In Bertrand’s mind, such a weapon could be very useful and the threat could make the firestarting side reconsider before they initiate an attack. There were some risks, no denying that, but if the development of antidote was successful, it seemed like the risks would be worth it.

“Yes, of course it’s potentially dangerous, but with safety measures it could be contained and useful. We’re trying to win this schism here, I know you thinking _kidnapping children_ to our side is a much more noble way to go -”

“Recruit,” Jacques interjected stiffly. “Recruit, not kidnap.”

Bertrand loved Jacques, even for all his idealism and beliefs that exasperated Bertrand sometimes. Especially when Jacques insisted on calling kidnapping recruit. “Just because you rationalize to yourself those things you do for VFD are noble and only stick to doing them, that doesn’t make you morally superior than the rest of us,” he said impatiently.

Jacques looked like he’d been slapped, and Bertrand immediately regretted what he just said.  Even though he didn’t think he was wrong. But still, all his life he’d been good at not saying what he really wanted to say to someone and just bottled things up. He didn’t know why he was doing this right now.

Perhaps he’d let himself gotten too familiar with Jacques’ presence and naively thought he wouldn’t lose him or foolishly push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Bertrand backtracked, feeling his nails digging right palm as his fist clench up. _Why did I say that why did I say that why did I say that -_ “I didn’t mean -”

“Yes you did,” Jacques’ voice was flat.  Cold. An unspoken ‘ _have you been wanting to say this for a long time but just never did?_ ’ hung between them.

 _I didn’t mean to say it out loud,_ he thought internally.  He pushed his nails against his palms harder.  It barely hurt enough to distract himself from desperately wanting to turn back time. “J -” he tried.

“I need some time alone,” Jacques interrupted.

“Sure,” Bertrand said immediately.  Nervously.

A moment of silence followed, and Bertrand wasn’t sure if Jacques planned to say anything else.  “I’ll go,” he swallowed, picking up his bag and books hurriedly, and left as fast as he could.

When he got out, he realized the Rubik’s cube he’d brought earlier that day, the one they were trying to solve but still not finished, was still on Jacques’ bed.

Well, he could just get it back later.  And if not - it was just a toy, nothing more.

 

* * *

 

On the other hand, it was possible his worst misstep regarding Jacques wasn’t falling in love with the same aspects of Jacques that he’d suspected, early on, would eventually cause them to disagree on more and more things as they got older and deeper into VFD.

Three days after he left Jacques’ apartment,  there still hadn’t been any contact between them at all.  Bertrand was starting to wonder if his previous insistence about not properly defining their relationship was an incredibly wrong decision.  He’d always thought the safest way to prevent losing someone completely after a breakup was to make sure a breakup couldn’t happen.  Then they would always be just friends - he wouldn’t ever lose Jacques then.

So he kissed Jacques and responded to the invitations and advances and slept with him and woke up together many morning afters and went on dates, but then diverted the topic every time Jacques tried to discuss their relationship and seemed to want to go official, or when it felt like Jacques was going to say something like “I’m in love with you” that would ruin some kind of balance.  Several tries later, Jacques took the hint and stopped bringing this up, thankfully, and Bertrand had thought everything was right back on track.  They would just be friends - perhaps exclusive in their own special ways, but just friends. He wouldn’t have to lose Jacques after a breakup.

But now he felt like he was trapped inside the ambiguity he had previously worked so hard to construct. He didn’t know if he should or should not reach out after Jacques’s “I need some time alone”. Was Jacques expecting him to call to check on him a few days later?  Or did he wanted him to not appear again until J decided otherwise?  What exactly were their relationship now? Were they still friends?  He’d like to think they were, but what did J think?

Still, he decided that Jacques probably meant he would initialize some kind of contact after he wanted to talk to Bertrand again.  Which meant he should probably respect Jacques’ wishes to be left alone and not bother him.

 

 

* * *

 

_[Flashback]_

_Their second kiss was at one of R’s masked ball.  Though perhaps the first one technically didn’t count if he’d just been practicing for an upcoming play at that time._

_(“The character in the play you’ll be kissing is a detective. J is an investigative journalist.  That makes total sense,” Beatrice had said, and then Olaf had said something about Jacques probably wouldn’t be good at kissing since Kit got all the prowess for that in the womb.  Beatrice and Olaf were menaces that deserved to be firmly ignored, but Jacques had looked at him and said “I’d be happy to help”, so it’d seemed impolite to say no to that.)_

_After the fifth song they danced together, Jacques asked if he wanted to sneak out to the corridors. “I feel like I should ask, especially since you turned down two people already to continue dancing with me.”_

_“Always the gentleman, you are,” Bertrand commented lightly._

_Jacques raised his eyebrow slightly, then in a swift movement, easily pinned him against the wall.  In the background, Bertrand could still faintly hear the music and other people dancing.  He had to raise his head slightly to look into Jacques’ eyes.  The Snickets were a really tall family, he thought. “Nice investigative journalist skills you have there,” was what he said out loud._

_“I am more than just a pretty trench coat,” Jacques agreed._

_It was hard to come back with witty responses when Jacques looked into his eyes. He felt his brain trying to piece together words into a coherent sentence. “Your lips are pretty, too,” was the first successful result of that._

_Jacques Snicket, ever the gentleman, said, “Would you mind if I kiss you?”_

_“I don’t think I mind at all.”_

 

 

* * *

 

“Rumors are saying you and B broke up?” Kit asked when she come over to pick up the taxi that day.  

Jacques froze midway as he was getting out the driver seat.  News always spread awfully fast in VFD, especially the incorrect ones.  He wasn’t exactly sure if this one was correct or not, though.  He remembered how Bertrand always did something to distract him or opened up another topic whenever Jacques wanted to discuss if they were a couple or not.  Eventually, not wanting to push him if he wasn’t ready yet, Jacques stopped asking.

He hadn’t really thought of any of that, especially not since their fight that day.

 _Just because you rationalize to yourself those things you do for VFD are noble and only stick to doing them, that doesn’t make you morally superior than the rest of us._ Bertrand’s words from that day echoed inside his head.  A sharp outburst that felt like words that’d been buried for too long.

_B doesn’t get it, neither does K.  Nor did L.  B and K think of VFD as problematic, but that doesn’t stop them from getting involved in or agreeing to the more questionable missions. They may not literally fight fire with fire, but they absolutely do figuratively fight fire with fire. They don’t enjoy it or do it often, but that doesn’t mean they don’t do it when they consider it necessary._

And Jacques understood what made them think that, partially at least.  But he believed they would eventually come around to realize that fighting fire with fire, even figuratively, would never be the long term solution.  It might take more time than Jacques would like, but, eventually they would.  If they had enough time. Jacques wasn’t going to push them much on this subject, just like he didn’t want to push B towards some commitment he wasn’t ready for.

“J,” Kit said impatiently, and Jacques realized he was still only halfway out of the taxi, and she just asked a question earlier that he didn’t really want to answer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jacques said, finally stepping out the taxi and handing Kit the key. “Drive safely.”

 

* * *

 

_[Flashback]_

_It was Sunday morning, and they were lying in bed together, neither ready to get up.  Bertrand reached over to the table beside the bed and grabbed his glasses and some architectural designs Dewey had sent him that he was reading last night, and began reading again._

_“You shouldn’t read stuff in bed,” Jacques said, rolling closer to him, and Bertrand could feel the warmth coming from Jacques’ body at this proximity. “It’s not good for your eyes.”_

_“Are you trying to kick me out of bed?” Bertrand asked, hiding a smile._

_“No, I’m trying to tell you to put that away and read it later,” Jacques said. “Or I’ll have to start confiscating your glasses.”_

_“No you won’t, unless you want me to read these without glasses and squint.” Bertrand paused for a moment before adding, slyly, “I heard that’s bad for the eyes.”_

_“You’re incorrigible.”_

 

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Kit, taking Jacques’ lack of denial on the breakup as a confirmation, decided to ask Bertrand about it when she was driving the two of them to VFD Headquarters.

“So, why exactly did you and J break up?”

Bertrand paused, then asked very carefully. “What have you been hearing?”

She frowned. “Just that the two of you broke up. You know how fast rumors spread in VFD, lots of people have been talking about it.  I asked J, but he wouldn’t tell me why.”

Bertrand closed his eyes. He supposed this meant Jacques considered this a breakup. Which was - fair. Perhaps. He wondered if this meant he shouldn’t be expecting Jacques to reach out anytime soon.  He wondered if this was some kind of secret signal telling him that if he should go apologize to win him back somehow, or if Jacques never wanted to see him again.

“It’s - complicated.” He said, finally opening his eyes. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Her frown deepened, but she didn’t press him. For now. “I’ll hold you onto that.”  She paused for a moment, then asked, “Did you love him?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice tight. _I still do_ , he thought but didn’t say.

He suspected she read that from his face anyway.

 

* * *

 

Ernest cornered him after the weekly bridge session at Hotel Denouement.  R and Kit already left the room, probably heading towards the Indian restaurant. Ernest put the deck of cards back on a cabinet and then turned to him.

“So, I heard you and Jacques broke up,” Ernest said casually.

“Funny, I’ve been hearing the same thing, too,” Bertrand said. “We must be running in the same circles.”

 _Classic of Bertrand to avoid answering the question with his own brand of weird humor_ , Ernest thought. _Charmingly evasive, or evasively charming. Whichever. Something of the two._

“Dare I ask why?” Ernest leant slightly closer to him, eyes curious.

“Oh,” Bertrand easily dodged towards the left. “If it’s not in the rumors, I’m afraid I can’t say.”

 _Charmingly evasive_. Ernest thought, sighing inside his head. _Or, evasively charming.  Whichever._ He decided to tell him that, though in a slightly modified way, “Wow, you’re really fucking evasive sometimes.”

“Well,” Bertrand said pleasantly. “I’ve heard that one too.”

 

* * *

 

After doing some looking up at the library in VFD headquarters and finding that in the Dewey Decimal System, number 579 was for Natural history of microorganisms, fungi, and algae, Bertrand had been trying to see if he could get a chance to sneak into the room 579 while he was at Hotel Denouement.  If Jacques ever decided to speak to him again, it would be better if he had more information and documented experiments of Gregor’s.

Currently, no one aside from Gregor and his research assistant Fernald was clear on how exactly the fungi could be utilized, everyone else just heard of some second handed news passed on from their family members who heard from them.  The library at VFD headquarters didn’t provide any help on this either, but Bertrand wondered if the very library-like hotel with rooms labeled in a very Dewey Decimal System might provide any clues on this. If the underwater library Dewey mentioned recently were already built, it might’ve been a perfect place to look. But since it was still in construction, he supposed the above ground hotel would have to do.

Somehow, room 579 always seemed to be occupied and locked, and even after wearing a concierge disguise and knocking on the door, there was no response.

“You’re here awfully often recently,” Ernest remarked one day. “Not that I’m complaining.  Though I do want to say if you really want to see me that much -”

“I just really like the sauna,” Bertrand interrupted, with the first lie that came up to his head, because R mentioned something about Larry mentioning it.  Perhaps he should’ve been stealthier in his moves, though it wasn’t surprising that those brothers probably had eyes all over hotel.

Ernest raised an eyebrow, “Now I’m really hoping you’re unsubtly sending me some hint.”

“Unsubtly is such an inelegant word,” Bertrand deflected, and Ernest laughed.  He studied the hotel manager in front of him, and debated internally whether or not he should use this chance to possibly gain the access to the hotel room.  On the other hand, maybe it was just an ordinary locked room with nothing inside.  He prayed it wasn’t. “I need a favor,” he said, coming to a decision.

“Finally,” Ernest said, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “You’re ready for someone to help you get over Jacques Snicket.”

“Actually, I want to know if I could enter one of the locked rooms,” Bertrand said.

“Is this still a metaphor?” Ernest asked, his lips pulling upwards slightly.

“It never was,” Bertrand rolled his eyes.

Ernest sighed. “Fine. Which room?”

Bertrand hesitated. “579.”

“I think Gregor Anwhistle booked that room for, whatever purposes,” Ernest frowned. “I think he wants it reserved for some research work he and his associates plan to do in the city, in parallel to the one they’re doing at the research center.  There’s nothing in there yet, though, since they’re still 100% focused on the research center right now.”

Ernest sounded like he was telling the truth, but Bertrand couldn’t be sure. Even though his words did make sense.  “You want to see the room to be sure, huh?” Ernest guessed. “I might be more willing to bend around the rules a bit than Frank is, but you’re going to have to give me some kind of reason, you know.”

“I don’t want to see the room,” Bertrand lied.

“Well,” Ernest smirked. “Do let me know if you change your mind.”

 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, when Beatrice (city’s most famous opera actress, his partner in crime on a certain opera night, one of the most adventurous people he’d ever known) proposed that they pay a visit to Gregor’s research center because apparently she’d heard from R who heard from Ernest about his interest in it, he impulsively said yes.  It wasn’t the kind of things he usually did, but he did also want to get away from the city a bit.

Since the exact location of the research center was a secret, they had to do a little bit of information gathering.  Sneaking into offices of VFD higher ups and deciphering codes and maps to figure it out.  It took his mind of Jacques a bit, and he was grateful for the distraction.

However, when their sail towards Anwhistle Aquatics gone heavily wrong in a shipwreck and they ended up on an island that they later found out they could only leave during very specific timeframes, he was definitely regretting the whole thing.

 

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you fucked off to an island for months and only sent me one single postcard with two sentences on it,” were the first words Kit said to him when they met up after he and Beatrice came back to The City.

“I didn’t want to strain the carrier bats,” Bertrand said as he sat down opposite of Kit. “Can’t believe you have a _coffee_ shop now - what happened to unwavering loyalty to bitter tea?”

“I’m just co-owner, and I do still prefer tea overwhelmingly,” Kit said. “But since the other owner would be the one running the shop most of the time, I agreed to it being a coffee shop.”

“I see,” he suspected he knew who the other owner was, but decided not to ask.

“So, are you going to talk to J?” she changed the subject, stirring the cup of tea with her spoon while her eyes focused on him.  Hearing Kit referring to Jacques, after trying his best to not think about the other man for what seemed like like a really long time, felt like a sudden stab.

Bertrand had no plans to talk to Jacques.

Instead of answering, he said, “I saw his article in the Daily Punctilio, about Fernald.  I assumed that wasn’t the whole truth, though.”

Her eyes darkened. “Fernald _was_ the one who set the fire. The article wasn’t wrong about that.”

He studied her. “And you and his stepfather came up with the plan?”

She looked at him, expressionless. “Are you here to be judgmental or turn me to authorities?”

He met her gaze, “Neither, just want to know the truth. Personally, I think we’ve done enough horrible things together for me to do either of those.”

She laughed, humorlessly. “Can’t disagree with that.”

“K,” he asked, quietly. “Did J ever tell you what happened that led to us -” he gestured vaguely.

“Breaking up? _” Technically it wasn’t a breakup_ , he thought. But he didn’t want to get into that now, so he just nodded.

“I suspected that it had something to do with the Medusoid Mycelium, because I remember you expressed some thoughts on it.” She paused. “But the timeline doesn’t really fit? It was still very early stages of the research and not much was known.  I knew he was pretty against it since the very beginning, but like, none of us even know the specifics of what Gregor’s doing at that time, it just doesn’t seem like enough information available to fight about, led alone break up.”

“Well, partly,” he sighed. “We just argued about it and then - I said some stuff I wish I hadn’t.”

She peered at him, and asked shrewdly, “It’s not just about Gregor’s research, is it?”

He was quiet, and she sighed. “Oh, B. What did you say?”

“I would rather not get into the specifics,” he said quietly. “But I guess I just, I don’t know, felt like he’s always overly idealistic about VFD but fails to see how only sticking to certain things he convinced himself as moral could potentially put himself, and our side, in danger, especially with the schism worsening by day.”

“And you felt like he didn’t even know about the details of Medusoid Mycelium then but he was already refusing to consider it?” Kit asked.

“Well no - okay, maybe a little, but the fight really wasn’t about the Medusoid Mycelium at that point, and - I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, abruptly.

Kit studied him closely, and then slowly said, “You fell in love with how idealistic he is, but ironically his idealism was also the reason why you didn’t trust his judgments on certain things.  Turns out, he was right about it being too dangerous though.”

“You aren’t actually sure on that,” he muttered. “Maybe if the research on Medusoid Mycelium continued, we would’ve been able to contain it. But we won’t know now - since it stopped.”

“I am sure, though,” Kit looked right into his eyes, “B, if you try to suggest that I only convinced myself into thinking developing a cure that could be large scale and controllable enough was impossible because I was trying to make myself feel better about the decision about Gregor, I think I might slap you.”

He drew a deep breath, and said carefully. “I didn’t say that.”

It was a very telling word choice, in Kit’s mind.  It wasn’t “ _I didn’t mean it that way_ ” or “I _never thought of it as that_ ”.  It wasn’t immediate backtracking the way he usually used when he didn’t want to offend others, despite whatever opinions he actually held.  It was “ _I didn’t say that”_.  And of course, he usually was much more honest and blunt with her than with a lot of people, so it made sense.  But it was still quite telling about certain things.

“But you’re thinking of it,” she said slowly, her eyes locking his.

He quickly held up his hands in surrender, “I didn’t think it’s _definitely_ the case, but from the limited information I have, the possibility has occurred to me.” He hesitated. “K, we’ve both done worse things in the name of preventing ‘dangers’ that weren’t even one tenth as dangerous as this.”

Kit stilled. Then, a few seconds later, she took a deep breath. “I’m going to show you some evidence and calculations, from Fernald’s notes. The development of the cure would never be as fast as we needed it to be.”  She stood up and went over to a cabinet, and pulled out a drawer.  She took some documents, and went back to the table.

He read through them silently and she waited, sipping her tea now and then. When he finally looked up again, she asked, “You see what I mean?”

“Well, it’s more dangerous and uncontrollable than I previously thought.” He hesitated. “Sorry I doubted you on that.”

Kit frowned. “I sense there’s a _but_ somewhere in that sentence,” she said slowly.

He didn’t speak, and she sighed. “Look, fine, so it’s not a hundred percent impossible, but the risk is too high to justify the potential usefulness, and you know that. I _know_ you know that - maybe not before reading this, but certainly now.  Honestly, before knowing all these, I would have agreed with going forwards on this. J was the one who was always more firmly in against it since the very beginning, when Gregor’s research was still at early stages and a lot was still unknown.”

His fingers ran across the frames of his glasses, then adjusted them slightly. “I recall.  Vividly.”  He eyed the documents. “I assume you got these from Fernald?”

“Yeah - well, through Widdershins. Gregor wasn’t sharing everything in the VFD meetings. Fernald went to his stepfather when he found these at first, who then told me, and then I knew this needed to be stopped. I would’ve shown you, but, you know.  You decided to run away to an island and it’s not like I’m about to send sensitive information through insecure channels.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “The island really was never part of plan.  It just - happened, as the result of the shipwreck.”

She rolled her eyes, and apparently decided to ignore the part about running off to an island not being part of the plan. “You ever think about how you ran away to a faraway island as many times as _Beatrice_ did?”

“As far as we know,” he countered.

“Fair,” she conceded, then eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to come up with how to argue with me that the risk might’ve been worth it right now?”

He looked at her. “Not necessarily. I’m just trying to process all the information. It was a lot.”

“You’re still awfully good at being diplomatic when you wanted to be,” Kit sighed. “You know, you asked me if I’m trying to convince myself that it really is that dangerous because I have to believe so after the decisions I made about Gregor, but what if it’s you who’s trying to convince yourself that really would be worth the risk because otherwise you would have to think about how much you fucked up with J and how it was _you_ who was wrong about this.”

Bertrand winced, and Kit pressed on. “So the thing is, we’ll never know how that would turn out now if we let the development continue.  Of course everything is a possibility.  But you’ve always been the cautious one, so you must knew you would’ve made the same call as I did, or at the very least do something to stop his research instead of encouraging it. You just don’t want to admit that you’ve been wrong on this particular topic.” She paused. “If you actually truly believe the research should still continue, then, well.”

“Go on,” he said tightly, closing his eyes.

“Then I would say your long time cautious tendencies and good habits of taking precautions has made you think you’ll be able to have everything under control as long as you took safety precautions, and since you’re always known to be the careful one, nobody ever thought you could underestimate the dangers.”

“You really think that?” he swallowed.

“Not before this conversation, but,” she said, “you’re not the only one of us who could come up with different possibilities on the fly and try to analyze them. I’m still not sure which one of it is, though.”

Bertrand was silent for a moment. “You call me out like no one else does, Kit Snicket.”

“Well,” Kit shrugged. “That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it?”

He opened his eyes again, frowning like he was trying to piece together an argument. “The thing about estimating the dangers and possible damage on this subject is that there isn’t just dangers when we decided to go forward with developing a weapon.  You need to also consider how, with the schism worsening, what could be the dangers of _not_ having a strong enough weapon to stop the other side.”

She slowly pulled a pencil out of her hair and started twirling it in her hand. “Okay, that argument sounds like it made certain kind of sense, but unless the other side also has some equally destructive weapon, the damage they could cause would never be equal to the damage that would be caused by a large scale biological weapon that we hadn’t yet known how to weaponize efficiently and safely.”

His frown deepened. _Hadn’t yet known how to weaponize efficiently and safely.  Hadn’t yet. What was that thing Beatrice said about visiting Monty last week and smelling a horrible smell on the way over?  Hadn’t yet.  Hadn’t yet. Hadn’t yet._

He said abruptly. “You’re possibly right, it’s very likely I would’ve made the same call in your position, with the same information known.”

“You know I am right,” she said, sounding a little guarded at his sudden change of attitude.

“I’m not _entirely_ sure if that’s true,” he said.

“Well, I suppose now you could only think of how you would’ve handled it hypothetically, but -”

“No,” he interrupted. “I know how I would’ve handled it.  What I’m not sure of is how _you_ had handled it.”

She gave him a frown. “You already know how I handled it.  You saw the newspaper article, confronted me on that minutes ago, I showed you the documents, and you conceded that stopping the research was the right choice.”

He adjusted his glasses slightly, “See, what I don’t get is, if the fire was supposed to destroy all the samples Gregor was experimenting, why couldn’t you guys just lured him out for lunch and burn down the research center?  When you said _‘stopping the research was the right choice_ ’, did you really mean _pausing_ the research was the right choice?”

She opened her mouth, but he continued. “The samples are not destroyed, right? Just buried under ashes and isolated and well-preserved. You said it’s too dangerous when we haven’t figured out how to safely weaponize it to our advantage. It’s too dangerous when we don’t have batches of antidote on hand. Gregor wanted to use it very soon, and he would still probably try to collect whatever samples that wasn’t destroyed by fire but got preserved due to the fire happening, and start the research elsewhere.  You wanted to wait until we’re able to safely use it as a weapon. Dare I assume someone somewhere is running a horseradish factory for this very purpose?”

“B -” she started, paused for a moment, then said. “You do realize those are some very presumptuous accusations to throw around, don’t you?”

“And you could’ve told me directly that I’m wrong, with explanations of how this logic doesn’t make sense, or you might’ve make true of that slap you threatened earlier, but instead, you asked me a rhetorical question.”

“The second one _is_ still an option,” she said coolly.

“And you’re _still_ not denying anything,” he shot back.

Their eyes met, neither of them saying anything, and for a moment when she raised her hand he thought that she might actually slap him, but she just tugged some hair behind her ear.

Finally, she sighed heavily, as if coming to a hard decision. “You can’t tell anyone.  All Gregor’s samples are supposedly destroyed.  Only people critical to the mission know the truth.  Well, and now you do too, I suppose.”

“Who else is in on the mission?” He asked quietly. “J isn’t, is he?”

“He doesn’t know anything about this,” she confirmed, then frowned, “And that’s all I’m going to tell you. You already know too much. They didn’t even all know what other people are involved.  Fragmentary plots, remember?”

“But you do,” he pointed out.

“ _Someone_ has to,” she snapped. “And don’t try to threaten to tell Beatrice if I don’t tell you this.  It won’t work.”

He bit his lips for a moment before saying, “I was just going to say, are you sure it’s the best to carry all those burden by yourself?”

“Right, silly of me,” Kit said. “I forgot how your attack routes for fishing for information are usually more of these subtle types.”

He was looking her in a very odd way, and she stared back at him, while trying to put the pencil she pulled out of her hair earlier back into where it was. “B,” she said slowly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” he said carefully.

“I probably don’t,” she admitted. “But I also probably need to.  So, just - spit it out. Be honest.”

“Be honest,” he repeated. “Well, I do love it when you’re being hypocritical, especially after that long _lecture_ of yours earlier about _my_ views on Medusoid Mycelium. Great performance, really.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned. “I’m already letting you in on a lot of things you’re not supposed to know.  Plus, you do kind of deserved that.” She raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to argue with that statement.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he conceded. Then he paused for a moment before adding, “You only told me because I figured it out, though.”

“Maybe, but I could’ve denied it all the way and listed all the reasons on why I would never do that. I do have a prepared just in case I was ever questioned.” She shut her eyes close. “Despite you running off to an island for months, you’re still one of the very few people I trust. Unfortunately.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quiet. “And in honor of transparency, and on the subject of people you trust,” he hesitated.  She opened her eyes slowly to look at him, and he said, “I know Dewey’s not actually dead.”

“... _what_?”

“... if I’m mistaken about him secretly working with you, I would deny I ever said anything.”

She stared at him. “Okay, fine. We’re working together.  How do you know this?”

“I know they’re building the underwater library,” he said, then saw the question on her face and continued. “Dewey told me very early on about the plan, and I knew they were in the middle of construction when I left the city. I only heard about the ‘death’ after coming back from the island and I was wondering if they continued the construction of the library, and when I tried to poke around it and. Well. I haven’t actually told him I found out he’s alive, thought I would try to figure out some more about this whole fake death operation. But then when you were talking about all these - okay, I might’ve taken some risk there, but nobody knows that I know, so no one ever made me promise not to say anything. Plus, it’s you.”

“You know I won’t tell anyone since you have a bigger secret on me,” she surmised.

“I was going to say that I trust you too,” he said. “But fine. Both, I suppose.”

She sighed, pulling another pencil out from her hair again, then admitted. “Yeah, Dewey’s working on collecting some information on it in case we need to restart Gregor’s research someday.  And also on more possible cures.  He and I plotted most of the things out together.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Satisfied?”

 

* * *

 

“You know, last time when we met when you mentioned my breakup with J, I was about to say it isn’t. Maybe J told you that it is, but -” Bertrand paused, not sure of how to continue.

Kit did a sharp right turn before saying, “Yeah he told me - well I mean, not exactly. I forgot, but I think I asked him about the rumors of you two breaking up and he didn’t deny that. He just said he didn’t want to talk about it or something.” She frowned. “What do you mean it isn’t a breakup?”

He hesitated. “Can two people really break up if they weren’t ever together in the first place?”

Kit turned to looked at him, incredulous. “... _What?_ ”  And continued to stare at him when he didn’t speak.

A few moments later, he said, “Keep your eyes on the road, Snicket.”

“Not until you explain this,” she glared at him.  He sighed, wishing it was Jacques driving the taxi instead, and stopped himself.  That wasn’t a line of thoughts he wanted to go down right now, or anytime soon.  Plus, he’d been on the taxi while she drove often enough, so he felt like knew her well enough to say, semi-confidently, that she wouldn’t let them die in a crash.

Anything less than that was probably fair game though.

“We were never, like, officially together. That’s all. Careful around that bike.”

“But everyone else thought you two were,” she said, ignoring his comment about the bike. His eyes followed the bike for a bit, and felt slightly relieved when he noticed the biker apparently had enough sense to dodge this wild taxi.

“Just because we’re not labeling it as a relationship doesn’t mean we have to correct others when they assume it is,” Bertrand hesitated. “It’s not about what others think, if I’m being honest.  Incoming truck on the left.”

Kit sped up, dodging the truck, and switched to the lane on the right for a moment before switching back again. “What exactly is it about?”

He paused, and turned away from her, staring out the window. “I was worried that if we get together and break up then we - won’t be friends anymore.  And I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.” He swallowed. “Turns out I lost him anyway, but at one point, I had just - naively thought the not labeling it as a relationship solution would have prevented it.”

She drove for a bit, and then asked, “Did you mislead J into thinking you guys are a couple while you never actually confirmed it verbally?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said hurriedly. “I’m quite sure he knows we haven’t labeled ourselves as that.  Because uh.” He sighed, burying his face in his hands, “he tried to talk about it a couple of times and I just - avoided the subject somehow, and.”

“And?” Kit asked coolly.

“You know J, he’s not the type to push people,” he mumbled. “And then we had that fight and he said he needed some time alone and I - I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to give him a few days and maybe call him myself or if he wanted me to leave him alone until he called me first or something and then Beatrice asked me if I want to travel to Anwhistle Aquatics and we got shipwrecked on the way and - you know the rest.”

“Oh god, this is a mess,” Kit muttered.  She stepped on the brake forcefully, and his body leant forwards sharply as the taxi came to a halt. “Get out of my taxi.”  

“K,” he began.

“Get out of my taxi,” she repeated, but then added. “Don’t forget we’re still meeting at the coffee shop on Sunday.”

That was Kit’s way of saying that she’s mad at him right now, but she still wanted to talk later.  As Bertrand got out of the taxi, it occurred to him that maybe if he and Jacques had had some system like this, things between them wouldn’t have spiraled downwards to this point. He hated himself for thinking that because it seemed like he was pushing the blame on Jacques, which he knew was not fair.  He was the one who’d refused to be in an official relationship, after all.

 

* * *

 

“You’re an idiot,” Kit said the next time she met him.

“I know,” Bertrand said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes said “I’m not the one you should say that to”, which he could clearly see.  But then she sighed, changing the subject. “Well, since you already know about our plan with the Medusoid Mycelium and you’re somewhat involved in the financial sector, you might as well help. We’ll need some funding.”  So there was that.

 

* * *

 

A while after they’d been working on this together and after they’d heard some rumors regarding a certain man with beard but no hair and certain woman with hair but no beard, Bertrand finally convinced Kit to let him tell Beatrice what they were doing.

She had been reluctant at first, but finally agreed that Beatrice had worked rather well together with both of them in the past, and had some talents that neither of them did.  Plus, she could tell that he would prefer not to keep this secret from Beatrice.  Kit suspected if she was anyone else, he would’ve likely have gone ahead and told Beatrice already.

A few moments after Beatrice arrived at that day, having heard the plan from Bertrand hours ago, Kit was starting to wonder if she made the right decision.

“Do you know what you two’s problem is?” Beatrice asked, standing up, then waltzed towards the other side of the coffee shop. “You’re both too practical and only focused on the more practical parts of the plan.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into involving her,” Kit muttered.

“Have a little faith, K,” Bertrand said. “Just like I’m having faith in letting your girlfriend babysit Violet.”

“Ellington’s not my girlfriend, we just own a coffee shop together,” Kit corrected him. “Plus, nobody would need to babysit her if Beatrice isn’t involved in the plan.”

“Can you two pay attention over there?” Beatrice demanded at them. “As I was saying, your biggest problem is that you’re only thinking about the usefulness and danger of the weapon in the sense of its destruction abilities or whatever.  And that’s not enough, which is why you need me. You’re not thinking smoke and mirrors enough.  Layers of lies, wrapped around disguises, fully blown drama.  Smoke and mirrors, darlings.”

“What -”

“Don’t develop the fungi, or try to make weapon out of it,” Beatrice continued, slowly waltzing back. “It’ll take too much resources.  Plus, Gregor was the one who knew most about it anyway.  Instead, plant rumors that we are trying to make a strong weapon out of it.  Seal the research center, elaborate real locks and fake locks, making sure only allowed personnel could get in.  Don’t actually ever get in. The other side would hesitate in making any moves because they think we are developing the weapon.  Stalemate, world peace, everybody wins.  I am a genius, thank you very much.”

Kit rubbed her forehead. “I need some really strong coffee right now, because her words are starting to make sense.”

“I would say I told you so, but -” Bertrand began.

“Don’t,” Kit suggested with a glare at him.

“- what if this rumor causes them to develop something similar of their own?”

“Now, that’s where your ex comes into plan,” Beatrice said.

“Wait what, Olaf?” Kit asked, sounding aghast, while Bertrand said at the same time, “we’re _not_ involving J in this.”

“Not those unibrows,” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “I mean the Denouement brother you hooked up with. We’re already way ahead of the other side on this, aren’t we?  We need a double agent on their side to alert us if they try to develop something, and secretly sabotage it before anything could form.  Perhaps replace their samples with something that’s actually not dangerous and sneaking the actually lethal ones back to us. The same double agent could also be spreading those rumors among the other side, and subtly discouraging them attack because _‘the firefighting side has this very dangerous fungus they will unleash on you if you try anything_ ’”.

“And you want either Frank or Ernest to do this?” Bertrand asked, frowning slightly as he processed what Beatrice just said. “To keep a hotel a supposedly neutral place where both sides think they have people on the inside, and therefore no one should want to hide or try to find anything there because too many prying eyes? And then we could hide all the necessary information in Dewey’s underwater library and no one would ever think to look.  By the way, which one of them did you hook up with?” He turned to Kit.

“I thought she was talking about _your_ ex when she said that,” Kit said.

“Actually, I thought you each hooked up with one.  I wasn’t sure if it’s the same one though.” Beatrice said, tilting her head slightly.

“I absolutely did not,” Kit said.

“Me either,” Bertrand said. “I mean, Ernest was a little flirtatious occasionally, but nothing happened.”

“I’m severely disappointed in you two,” Beatrice said. “Well, whatever.  Just think about how planning this will be like writing a screenplay of drama inside a hotel, isn’t it exciting?”

“I don’t like this,” Kit said slowly. “We’re going to placing a lot of trust in him - whichever one of them - to give us the correct information.  And what if he decided to switch to being double agent for the other side? How long will it take us to find out? Will it be too late? I don’t trust either of them enough to do this. Or maybe anyone.”

“K has a point,” Bertrand said, frowning. “This feels ... too risky. Also, I just thought of this, but I’m not sure if our side is necessarily way ahead of them in the research of this.  I would assume Fernald knew quite a bit about this, and now he’s on the other side.  He probably thought all the research work was burnt down and there’s nothing left, and if we start spreading rumors that it’s not completely destroyed and we’re continuing Gregor’s work, I doubt he would just - not do anything.”

Beatrice sighed dramatically. “You two really have no appreciation for the beauty of my plan.  Fine, go with your original plan without fancy espionage then.”

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Ms. Feint.”

“I didn’t know you two are meeting today?”  Ellington said when Bertrand showed up at the coffee shop that day. “Kit’s out running some taxi errands.”

“We didn’t have plans originally, but I wanted to talk to her, she told me to meet her here and she would be back soon.”

“I see,” Ellington studied him. “Do you want to wait in the front of the shop or her office in the back?”

“The office would be preferable, thank you,” he said politely.

When they reached the office, Ellington suddenly said. “I don’t want to be rude, but would you mind if I say something?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Go ahead.”

“You’re not immune to the brainwashing of your organization,” she hesitated. “I know you and Kit both think her twin believes too many things VFD told him, but, no offense, just because you realize that, that doesn’t mean you don’t also fall victim to that to a certain degree, even if it’s not as much.  You’re still in VFD, after all.”

He was silent for a moment, running his fingers across the frames of his glasses.  Then he asked, “Do you tell me that to practice telling K, or do you tell me that because you don’t think you could say that to K but you want to say it to someone anyway?”

She eyed him, pursing her lips. “You know I can’t tell her that.”

 _Not telling a Snicket what you really think of their relationship with VFD._   _Where have I heard of_ that _one before?_ Bertrand thought to himself, half-amused, half-bitter. _Well, if she could keep those thoughts to herself forever instead of accidentally blurting them out one day in an argument, perhaps it could work out._

“Maybe,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what he else he could say.

It occurred to him that Ellington Feint was good for Kit in the way she balanced out Kit’s entangled involvement of the VFD ideals and the less-ideals and various schemes.  A portal, a connection, to the world outside of VFD.

She sighed, and he felt obligated to say something other than a ‘maybe’. “Perhaps on some level K already does know.  Even if just subconsciously.”

“I’m not sure if that makes telling her better or worse,” she said softly.

 _That’s fair_ , he thought. Flashes of his last conversation with Jacques surfaced to the forefront of his thoughts. _I don’t think I know either. On the other hand, K and J_ are _pretty different people._

“Well, I probably wouldn’t,” he said. “I mean, I would tell K, as me, but I wouldn’t, if I’m in your position, if that makes sense.”

“I suppose I’m not surprised,” she said. “By the way, I thought you two just call each other by initials when talking to each other, it’s odd to hear you still referring to Kit as K when she’s not here.”

He quirked a smile, “Well, as someone who co-owns a coffee shop with my best friend once told me, I’m not immune to brainwashing.”

Ellington rolled her eyes, prepared to say something, but at that moment, Kit walked in. “Dodged three police cars today,” she announced. Bertrand watched Ellington Feint’s eyeroll seconds ago turned into something almost like fondness as she shifted her focus from him to Kit.  He wondered if he should’ve encouraged her to be honest with K.

“Business as usual, then?” Ellington asked, a half-smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Kit agreed. “Hello, B.”

Ellington gave Bertrand a quick look, before saying, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.”

“So,” Kit said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ , I just, uh, wanted to talk to you.” He hesitated for a moment.  “I’m sorry about bringing Beatrice in on the plan.  We ended up going with original plan anyway but with one more person knowing - I know you want to keep the people who know to a minimal to reduce risks.”

Kit pulled a pencil from out of her hair, playing it in her hands.  Finally, she said, “You trust her to keep this secret, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” his answer came fast and sure. “Else I wouldn’t -”

“I know.” She cut across him. “I know, alright? You trust her, and I’m trusting your judgment on this. That even if we didn’t go with her plan, she wouldn’t hinder our original one, and she also wouldn’t tell this to other people.  I know you - I know after what happened with J, you want to do this. This - trust or honesty thing.”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah.  Maybe.  I think.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Kit said. “Ellington got this new coffee machine, you want to take a look?”

 

* * *

 

“You know, I just had a horrible thought, if one day in the future either Frank or Ernest does defect to the other side, like actually on their side and not being a double agent, I would always think back to Beatrice waltzing in this coffee shop proposing the smoke and mirrors plan.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone.”

 

* * *

 

“You should talk to J,” Kit said one day.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Bertrand sighed.

“If you wait until you’re ready,” she started.

“Maybe I’m not waiting,” he said, shutting his eyes tight. He said, in a quieter voice. “Maybe I’m just escaping.”

“You can’t escape forever,” Kit said, putting a hand on his arm.

“Probably,” he agreed,  “I suspect I can only escape until you decided you’ve had enough and subtly orchestrate something that would force J and me into a situation where we had to talk to each other.” He paused. “Actually, when was the last time _you_ talked to him?”

“Definitely closer to now than the last time you talk to him,” she replied. Which sounded an evasive enough answer for him to know it definitely wasn’t something like “last week”.

“... if you’re still talking to him fairly often, I suspected I would’ve already met him under some circumstances of your arrangement.”

“Look, we still communicate … sparsely. Occasionally. It’s just - I’m hiding so many things from him now, it just seems easier to not to.  But we do have a hangman game going on a piece of paper in the taxi.”

“Well, now that I’m keeping the same secrets from him -”

“But you two have other things you should talk about.  Work it out.” Kit pointed out. “Like the fact you run off to an island after your fight, that kind of things.  Go _talk_ to him.”  

“Hypocritical much?” he scoffed. They looked at each other, and he shrugged, relenting. “Maybe someday.”

She sighed, then changed the subject. Slightly. “Do you love Beatrice?

He hesitated. “We work well together - much to my initial surprise, I must admit. And I do like her, very much.”

“Much to your initial surprise too?”  She asked dryly.

He ignored that. “And we trust each other, too.”

“Hmm, that’s not what I asked.”

“Love is overrated. We’re … we’re partners, and I think that’s more important.”

“Do you ever think maybe you’re just afraid to use the word love to call things? You think that if you don’t call it as that, instead you think that you’re just friends or partners or you just like her and you work well together, it’s easier to handle it? It’s less fragile?”

He looked utterly stricken for a moment, but quickly composed himself. “You’re one to talk, Ms. We-Just-Run-A-Coffee-Shop-Together-That’s-All.”

She scowled. “That’s different.”

He thought that maybe they were both hypocrites after all.

 

 

* * *

 

They met up at an abandoned gym VFD used to train volunteers.

“Of all places for a meetup,” Bertrand said, surveying the long unused equipment that had layers of dust on them.

“Nobody comes here anymore, it’s a perfect place for a meetup,” Kit replied. “Plus, I thought you might bring Violet and she could have some fun with all these equipments, like trying to dissect them apart and build a new one together.”

“Violet’s at her friend Ben’s birthday party,” Bertrand said.

Kit climbed onto one leg extension machine, propping her legs up. “Wow, we used to have some fun time here. Feels like ages ago.”

Bertrand remembered usually after the VFD trainer left them to their own devices, he and Kit would just sit on the machines chatting about the designs of various machines and how it could’ve been built differently until Monty made them get off because he wanted to use the machine they were sitting on. Bertrand would pretend he was very focused on what Kit was saying and wasn’t simultaneously admiring her twin’s biceps a few feet away, marveling at what usually was hidden under that trench coat of Jacques’.  He knew Kit would occasionally pretend to be interest in Beatrice and Olaf competing the newest absurd thing they decided that day and looked over now and then, but was actually staring at R lifting weights.

Good times.  Those were the days.  “It _is_ ages ago,” he said, climbing onto the machine next to Kit’s.  There was a moment he thought he was going to be transported back in time, back to all those years ago, everyone in this very same gym instead of scattered around places and separated by different sides of the schism. As he got onto the machine and looked over at the ones on the other side, it was almost as if he could see Jacques there.

Jacques wasn’t there.  Bertrand hadn’t seen him in years, or his trench coat or biceps. Some days he thought he didn’t miss J anymore, other days, like today, he missed him achingly. Like an old wound that he thought had healed but maybe certain things never really heal.  He wasn’t in love with him anymore, that he was sure of, but even so, it would always be hard to completely not miss Jacques. He closed his eyes.

“You really did used to stare so longingly at J, didn’t you?” Kit asked, her voice sounding somewhat amused.

“Shut up,” Bertrand muttered without opening his eyes. “Why can’t we meet at the coffee shop today?”

“Ellington has some friends from the chemistry and culinary fields coming over to visit recently, I don’t want to disturb them.”

His opened his eyes and propped himself up slightly to look at her, “Cleo Knight and Jake Hix?”

She frowned, “How do you know them?”

“I don’t really, just heard of their names,” he shrugged. “I did meet Miss Malahan once though, when I was at the Daily Punctilio headquarters.” _Bringing J dinner because he said he would be working late that day_ , he thought internally.

Kit gazed at him, as if guessing correctly that he was thinking of Jacques.  He was grateful when she didn’t push the subject. “Did you bring the documents from the bank?”

“It’s in my bag,” Bertrand said as he opened it up to take the documents R managed to get for him after they worked out the combination to Poe’s safe. “There’s more money involved then we previously thought.”

“Hm,” Kit frowned, flipping over the papers quickly. “We need to move fast on this before more people found out. Well, I’ll work with Dewey on this and see if he got any information on his side.”  She sighed, and he studied her carefully.

“How is he?”

“Fine.  As fine as one can be living in an underwater library all the time, I suppose.”  She frowned. “Well, when I said it like that, it sounds like a dream.  But really, years after years not getting out and with very few people knowing his existence, it’s hard.” She eyed him. “You and Beatrice should go visit sometimes too, since you already knew, even if you’re really not supposed to.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he deflected.

She rolled her eyes, and then sighed again. “I think Frank thinks Dewey and I should get together.”

“Not surprising,” he said. “You’re like the only person outside of his brothers that he meets these days. And as far as Frank knows - unless Dewey changed his mind and told him that Beatrice and I also know - the only person who knows that he’s still alive.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “I’m not sure how Dewey feels - and I don’t want to ask, obviously - so I just try to keep everything professional between us, I don’t want to lead him on.  But I do know he must be lonely so I’m trying to be a good friend too - it’s hard to walk the balance sometimes.”

“I see why you want me to visit him more,” he commented.

“For _his_ sake,” she said. “And so what if Frank or Ernest realizes you’re at the hotel more often and finds out that you know?  It’s not like that change things much.”

He curled his legs in slowly and closed his eyes. “I’ll try. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Kit told me to tell you to go pick someone up at the train station,” R told Jacques over the phone.

(Somehow, even though R was still in Winnipeg handling family business these days and his sister was in the city, R and him still talked more often.  Though she mentioned last time that she might be able to move back to the city soon, and asked him to see there’s any job positions that VFD might need her to fill.  Jacques told her he’d heard people talking about the new banker VFD had orchestrated into position but they probably wanted someone to keep an eye on him. The higher ups seemed to want him to do it, and had already told Poe, the banker, that someone with the initials JS would be working for him. “Hmmm, I do type very fast, great secretary skills,” R had mused during their last conversation. “Think I might invent a new identity back in the city with the initials JS and steal position that from you.”)

Even though R didn’t say who it was that Kit wanted him to pick up, Jacques had some suspicions. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted his suspicions to be right or not.  The man who he hadn’t seen in years.  Jacques knew from R that Kit and him still met up now and then, despite both of them apparently avoiding him.  He tried not to care about it too much, and failed utterly.  Things between the three of them used to be easy, and then one day, it suddenly wasn’t.  Or perhaps it was a gradual thing, and he’d just been too blind to see it.

He sighed, and looked out at the window.  It was raining.

“I’ll be there,” he told R.

 

* * *

 

It was raining when Bertrand and Violet got off the train.  The station was crowded. There were a long line of people waiting at the official taxi pickup place.  It looked at least another 20 minutes wait. 

“My coat is wet,” Violet said. Despite the umbrella they were using, it wasn’t enough against the rain and wind combined.  Just when Bertrand was contemplating whether to head back into the station to wait for the rain to get smaller, a taxi stopped right in front of them.  

Even though the rain was pouring on it, Bertrand recognized it right away.  Even after everything, some memories were still painfully clear, as if etched into his mind.  The window rolled down, sitting in the driver seat was someone that looked even more familiar than his taxi.

“Get in the taxi,” Jacques Snicket said to him coolly.

Various things crossed his mind at that moment. “Did you use this attitude with the kids you’re kidnapping too?” he thought, almost wanting to burst into hysterical laughter, the scenes of their argument as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. “No thanks, we’ll wait for the long line of taxis,” another thought said, sounding frostily polite.  Then he took one glance at Violet, who looked very much like she wanted to get into the taxi that would be warm and dry, and immediately felt guilty. Would he really be that selfish and stubborn to refuse the taxi ride just because he wasn’t ready to talk to Jacques again right now (or probably ever, really)?

Bertrand came to a decision.

He opened the backseat door, felt like he was opening a door to the past.  Violet climbed in quickly, but his own step froze halfway in, as if there was something physically blocking him.  He took a moment to steel himself before finally climbing into the taxi, closing the door.

“You can use the blanket if you’re cold,” Jacques said when he turned to look at the backseat to look at them.

“Thank you, Mr. Driver,” Violet said politely, getting her coat off and wrapping the blanket around herself quickly.

Jacques’ gaze landed on Bertrand, and their eyes met.  They looked at each other for a moment, taking in the changes over these few years in silence.  A thousand memories went through Bertrand’s mind, but he forced himself to focus on the present instead of the past. “Thanks,” he managed to say.  Jacques nodded briefly and turned back to face the road again.

Violet started gazing curiously around the taxi, and Bertrand took the moment of silence to capture her attention. “Hey Violet?”  she looked at him. “Remember, usually when we taxi appeared suddenly without being called and the driver invite you in, you shouldn’t get in.”

“Oh,” she blinked, piecing clues together quickly. “So you and this driver are friends?”

‘I doubt he still considers me as one’ was a honest answer, but not one he considered appropriate for the moment. ‘No’ was not an answer he wanted to give either, as it would defy the point of warning her against getting into strangers’ taxis. He wanted to simply say ‘yes’, but then he worried that Violet might take it to mean she could get into J’s taxi if himself or Beatrice weren’t around.

“Your father and I are old acquaintances,” Jacques said, turning to face them again and saving Bertrand from spiraling into worrying how to answer the question. “I’m Jacques.”

“What does that mean?” Violet asked.

“It means your father and I have known each other for a long time,” Jacques explained. “However, since you and I just met today, we aren’t in the same situation.  If you’re alone, without your parents beside you, and someone you just met once told you to get on the taxi, your parents would want you to not get into it.”

Bertrand felt his shoulders sagged in relief, and Jacques spared him an unfathomable glance.

“Oh,” Violet blinked, processing all that.  Then she remembered that Jacques had introduced himself earlier, and added, “I’m Violet. Very nice to meet you. Thank you for driving us.”

“No problem,” he said, and turned back again, without another a look at Bertrand.

The taxi sped up.

 

* * *

 

Bertrand was very glad Violet immediately started chattering about the designs of the train they were just on, so he could avoid talking to Jacques at all without needing to endure the tense silence.  Sometime during the ride, the rain stopped.

The taxi reached their home, and Jacques parked beside the sidewalk, then turned to look at the backseat. He noticed Violet eyeing a Rubik’s cube in the backseat curiously. “You can keep that,” he said, then gave Bertrand a significant look.

Bertrand had noticed the Rubik’s cube earlier, and briefly wondered if it was the very same one he’d left in Jacques’s apartment all those years ago.  He’d pushed the thought down and told himself it probably wasn’t.  From the look Jacques just gave him, though, Bertrand knew it was the exact same one.

“Thank you!” Violet looked utterly delighted at that, and whatever polite refusal Bertrand was about to say, he swallowed it back down. “I’m going to show Mom this!” she said, bouncing out of the taxi excitedly.

It was just the two of them now, and Bertrand could feel the heavy silence engulfing the taxi.  He was flashing backs to all the time they were in this taxi alone together, and everything felt so familiar yet so far away that it hurt.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, finally.

Jacques met his eyes. “That’s all you want to say?”

Of course it wasn’t.  There were a millions thing Bertrand wanted to say. _I missed you I’m still missing you I’ll always miss you and this goddamn taxi too I’m sorry I’m sorry I wished I’d done things differently but I didn’t and then it became too late to fix it I’m sorry. I see your trench coat still has that tea stain I spilt on years ago and you’re still keeping that Rubik’s cube in the taxi and you’re still navigating the roads in the rain in the safest way possible but despite all those things we’re not the same people we were years ago I miss you I miss us but I didn’t try to fix us then and I don’t think it’s possible now after so many things had happened also your sister and I have a scheme about the Medusoid Mycelium going on that we have no plans of telling you I’m sorry about that too._

He’s nostalgic, and he missed Jacques, of course he did, but he was also practical enough to know they couldn’t return to the past. Things were different now. And with their view differences on certain VFD aspects and how they both used to ignored those differences until it was too late, maybe they would never have worked out anyway, even without Gregor’s research.  Maybe they were never meant to work out.  He didn’t know, but things were too different now, it was no use reminiscing the past and what could’ve been.

He wanted to apologize, badly, but another part of him felt like it wouldn’t solve anything, and he’d rather Jacques not forgive him, for either what he’d said or what’d he done, or hadn’t done, perhaps.  A part of him wondered if he was just selfishly trying to hold on this connection between them that would always exist, even if bitterly, as long as Jacques didn’t forgive him.

“And thanks for, uh, answering Violet’s question,” he said instead.

Jacques narrowed his eyes a bit. “Yeah. Well. Maybe you could hide it from her, but I’m able feel your struggle about how to answer in the driver’s seat. Look, whatever our differences are, I’m not going to argue with you about those around her, okay?”

“Right,” Bertrand said, his throat feeling very dry.

Jacques was quiet, and Bertrand desperately searched for things in his brain that he could say next, “Do you want to try being friends?”  and then wanting to kick himself for asking the question immediately after hearing it out loud.

Jacques looked at him, expressionless. “Do _you_? Or do you just feel like you have to say that?”

Bertrand couldn’t answer.  Jacques had a point.  It was much easier to just keep avoiding him and the pain of missing him had already become his comfort zone.  But trying to actually be friends and deal with all the things that hadn’t dealt with - that was much harder. He wanted to have Jacques as a friend again - but then again, he also did not want that at all. A part of him just wanted to continue their previous stalemate forever.

“Do you and K keep in touch?” he found himself asking, changing the topic because he didn’t how to answer the previous question, but also he did want to know what Jacques would say on this.

Jacques was quiet for a while.  Then he shrugged, “For some definition of keeping in touch. She let herself into my apartment with the spare key three weeks ago and rearranged stuff in the fridge.  I do know you two talk way more often.” He sounded like he didn’t particularly care, but the look in his eyes showed that this did bother him.

And it hurt to see that look on him. “J,” Bertrand began, not knowing what to say but feeling like he had to say something.

Jacques frowned. “I know it’s not like she’s taking your side of the breakup. I know it’s not just on her that she and I are not talking, and maybe that applies to you and me too. Maybe.  But - sometimes it felt like that you two have formed some circle excluding me from it. I don’t think you guys are intentionally doing that - well, I _hope_ , I suppose, but -” he laughed, a laugh short and sharp and humorless. “Whatever.”

Bertrand never realized how Jacques felt like that, but once hearing those words, he wondered how he never thought of this earlier and how neither Kit or him ever talked about this. They both just kept wanting the other person to talk to Jacques to resolve the issues between them and calling each other hypocrites for not actually making an effort. But they never really stopped to discuss how they both used to be the closest with J but now both were avoiding him but still meeting each other at least once every two weeks, and how J himself might’ve felt about this - if he knew. Which, apparently, he did.

“J - I’m sorry,” he said, feeling incredibly selfish, and also incredibly guilty at the fact that he and Kit were hiding their elaborate plan about the Medusoid Mycelium from Jacques - though probably not guilty enough to tell him.

 “Well, it is what it is, ”Jacques said, sounding tired. “Write me a letter, perhaps.  I don’t know if I’m ready to start being friends again - or if you are - but maybe we can go from there. Pen pals.  I heard you married someone great at writing long length letters.”

“I - Beatrice and I -” Bertrand began, but realized he wasn’t sure how to explain the situation between Beatrice and him to Jacques.

Jacques waved it away. “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain. Or maybe you can do it via the letter, if you want. But you don’t have to.”

“Okay,” Bertrand said quietly. “Anything you want me to write in particular?”

Jacques regarded him coolly. “Figure it out,” he suggested.

“Will do.” Bertrand said, voice tight. He took a quick look out of the window. “I should go.”

Jacques gave a brief nod.  “Alright.”

He stepped out of the taxi, then Jacques started driving away.  Bertrand took his phone out, wanting to text Kit something, then discovered there was already a text from her waiting for him.

 **_hypoKrITical  
_ ** _How did it go? I hope you two actually talked about some important stuff, considering the efforts I spent on arranging this._

He scoffed, and quickly typed back, perhaps a little spitefully, “ _well, you can always talk to him to find out :)_ ” before stuffing the phone back in his pocket. When he looked up again, he could still see the taxi in a distance, because Jacques still drove with that safe, speed appropriate way of his.  His phone buzzed again, but he suddenly didn’t have the heart to read whatever clever response Kit sent.

He watched the taxi as it got further and further away, until he couldn’t see it anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> if you finished reading all of this, thank you. this fic had been a struggle to write (partly because K & B just, didn't shut up sometimes) and i appreciate anyone taking time to read it
> 
>  [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


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